


i’ll finally see

by Antisocial_Butterfli (orphan_account)



Series: better half of me [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove is a Mess, Boys In Love, First Kiss, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Hawkins community pool, Lifeguard Billy Hargrove, M/M, No Beta, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, We Die Like Men, heather and robin ship it, lowkey so does max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Antisocial_Butterfli
Summary: Billy huffs again, but doesn’t say anything. Cause. She’s not wrong. He does want to see his pretty boy now. Wishes he could see him all the time. And it pisses him off because it just confirms the fact that he’s whipped.Heather’s come to the same conclusion if the whipping sound she’s making is anything to go by.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: better half of me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529564
Comments: 12
Kudos: 295





	i’ll finally see

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes. I have finally posted. For some reason, this part gave me a lot of trouble. Hope you enjoy.

Billy likes his job. It reminds him of California. And even though the slight ache he feels in his chest every time he thinks of what he left in San Diego is still there, it’s considerably more bearable than it was eight months ago.

It also gets him out of the house and away from his asshole dad, and all he really has to do is lounge around, working on his tan. The kids around town are too scared of him to try any funny business while he’s on duty. His coworkers aren’t so bad either. Specifically Heather. 

Their first day on the job, she gave him her extra candy bar and they bonded over shared disgust over the creepy ogling of the men and women in their forties. She’s cotton candy sweet but in a not annoying way. Which he didn’t think was possible.

They also have an unspoken understanding that neither of them are straight. 

They’d come to this understanding after he caught her not-so-subtly checking out Rachel Hilton as she was getting out of the pool and he had to elbow her in the ribs to get her attention. She’d looked horrified at being caught but all he’d done was smile at her sadly and shrug. 

Then he’d said, “I’ll watch your back if you watch mine,” in a self-deprecating tone. 

After that it was a common occurrence for them to casually sling an arm around each other’s shoulders whenever they were being too obvious.

So. It’s not so bad.

But today, he’s finding it particularly annoying. And he hasn’t even started his shift yet.

The amount of stares he’s gotten from middle-aged women just walking from the front gate to the service desk on the other side of the pool is, frankly, unnerving. Usually he’d find the attention, and validation, kind of nice, but it’s getting out of hand. 

“That’s it,” he says, storming into the office behind the service desk, “I’m gonna start wearing a shirt during my shifts in the tower.”

Heather snorts from where she’s sitting on the desk, eating a salad, “You do that and you’ll mess up your tan,” she replies teasingly, shoving an offensive amount of kale into her mouth.

“Classy,” he says. She just sticks her ranch covered tongue out at him. “I’m serious. Eventually one of them isn’t gonna be satisfied with just lookin’.”

She snorts again, picking a cherry tomato out and tossing it into the trash beside the desk, “All of them are married with kids, Billy. They all know you’re underage. I think you’re fine.”

He just huffs and throws himself onto the chair in front of her, crossing his arms.

Heather furrows her eyebrows at him and sets her salad down beside her, nudging his bicep with one of her feet, “Why are you so pissy today, Hargrove?”

He lightly smacks her foot away, “I’m not being pissy,” he mumbles, definitely _not_ pouting as says it.

She raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him, blinking at him, not saying anything in response.

He blinks back with the same expression, not backing down. He doesn’t anticipate her not backing down either. She just keeps staring. He looks away first. 

After a couple of moments of him avoiding her gaze, he glances back and sees she’s got the same _are you kidding me_ expression on her face, though she’s started eating her salad again. It would be hilarious if he wasn’t in such a bad mood. He sighs and leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, “I’ve got a date tomorrow night.”

Heather hums, “With who?” she asks around another bite.

He looks back at her with pursed lips. Glancing behind him to make sure no one is close enough to hear, he turns back and whispers, “Steve Harrington.”

The look on her face as she chokes on kale actually does manage to make him snort out a laugh. He leans forward and wacks her on the back a few times.

She coughs and takes a deep breath, her eyes red-rimmed, “Thanks,” she finally manages to say, her voice a little raspy. She clears her throat for good measure and then, unexpectedly, punches him on the arm.

“Ow,” he says, even though it didn’t actually hurt.

“Shut up, that didn’t hurt,” she says, her eyes wide with glee and a grin on her face. “You’re going on a date with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington? _King_ Steve?”

He shushes her and looks behind himself again, “Keep your voice down, Heather, Jesus.”

“Sorry,” she says, glancing at the open door as well, “but, seriously?”

He looks back at her after making sure the coast is still clear. It is; their other coworkers are busy arguing with some kids about acceptable swim wear. He nods, “Yeah. Seriously.”

She squeals a little and he can’t help the dumb smile on his face.

She scoots over on the desk, moving her half eaten lunch behind her, so she can talk to him while whispering, “You’ve had your eye on him for _months_ Billy. Why are you being pissy about it?”

He rears back, “How do you know I’ve had my eye on him?” 

They’d never outwardly said they weren’t straight, let alone talked about *crushes*.

She rolls her eyes, “It was obvious.” At the panicked look on his face, she backtracks, “Not to everyone, though, don’t worry.”

He gives her a confused look. She smiles, “The gay in me recognized the gay in you.”

He snorts and relaxes. She has a point. To anyone who wasn’t at least a little gay, it would’ve seemed like he was just harassing Harrington and trying to take his ‘crown’ thanks to the heteronormativity of the world they live in. Intricate rituals are only obvious to those with True Sight. Even if Heather didn’t _know_ while they were still in school, she still _knew._

“You didn’t answer my question, though. Why are you being pissy when you’ve got a date with someone you’ve wanted for so long?”

Billy quickly glances away, avoiding her eyes, shifting in his seat.

“Oh my god,” she says, pure, mocking joy coloring her tone. 

Billy huffs and glares at her, “Shut up.”

She cuts another quick glance at the door, “You’re upset because you want to see him _now_ ,” she accuses.

Billy huffs again, but doesn’t say anything. Cause. She’s not _wrong_. He _does_ want to see his pretty boy now. Wishes he could see him all the time. And it pisses him off because it just confirms the fact that he’s _whipped_. 

Heather’s come to the same conclusion if the whipping sound she’s making is anything to go by. 

“Shut up,” he says again with another glare, no heat behind it. 

She just laughs at him and picks up her salad once again, signaling the end of the conversation, for which he’s grateful.

He glances at the clock above the door and sighs, standing up to start his shift. As he’s walking away, he hears Heather bid him a condescending ‘good luck’. 

He flips her off without turning around, earning another laugh.

-

He’s only been up in the tower for a grand total of fifteen minutes and he’s already feeling antsy. 

It’s a relatively slow day, with the weather being a bit more bearable at a solid eighty seven degrees. He hasn’t had to blow his whistle yet, but he’s keeping an eye on the little shits near the deep end just in case.

The moms aren’t being subtle _at all_ but Billy couldn’t care less. After his temper tantrum he’s just decided to take Heather’s advice and ignore them. He’s more upset about the fact that he hasn’t seen Harrington in almost twenty four hours. He should’ve made the date for tonight rather than Friday.

No matter how dumb it sounds, he wishes it was Harrington giving him bedroom eyes rather than five middle aged moms. 

Half an hour of sitting later, Billy thinks someone out there must be listening, cause in walks Harrington with all six of the brat pack following him like ducklings follow their mama in single file, the girl he works with, Robin, taking up the back. He couldn’t control the smirk that stretches his lips or the way he automatically sits up straighter if he wanted to. His day just improved by one hundred percent.

He watches closely behind his sunglasses as Harrington and Robin lead the kids over to a table with an umbrella and chuckles as he argues with Henderson about something, not close enough to hear. Moments later, it’s obvious the argument was about sunscreen as Henderson excessively sprays himself down all the while pointedly not breaking eye contact with Harrington. The only reaction he gets is a smirk and an exaggerated ‘thank you’. Henderson flips him off. 

He doesn’t realize he’s been blatantly staring at them in a way not even his sunglasses could hide, a grin stretched across his face, until Max waves at him condescendingly with an expression on her face that makes it completely clear how much of a loser she thinks he is. He chuckles and waves back.

After they’ve all been sufficiently coated in sunscreen, thanks to Mama Harrington, they all wander over to the pool, leaving their babysitters behind. 

Billy focuses on them for a few minutes, he has a job to do after all and they’re _teenagers_ , before letting his gaze shift back to something _much more interesting._ Which is, of course, his pretty boy. 

In tiny swim shorts. 

_Shirtless._

He’s never been more aware of the fact that he’s gay.

Harrington and Robin have settled themselves down in a couple of lounging chairs near the table, both having had the foresight to bring reading material. He sends a quiet thanks to whoever invented sunglasses and takes the chance to admire the view.

He’d gotten a glimpse of Harrington’s chest hair at the mall, thanks to that outfit that most definitely featured in his dreams the night before, but seeing it in its full glory is something else entirely. 

He has the overwhelming urge to run his hands over his chest, see for himself if it’s as soft as it looks. Has the image in his head of gripping it between his fingers as he rocks on top of him, showing him exactly how much he’s been wanting him. Has another, more innocent, image of resting his cheek right on Harrington’s chest, tucking himself into his side as he plays with it, their legs intertwined. It makes his chest ache with a longing he hasn’t felt since California, and even then, never this strong. 

Billy sighs wistfully and tears his gaze away, looking at his watch. Ten more minutes before his shift ends. He should at least pretend he’s not distracted.

Which works out okay, until about two minutes before his shift ends, when he feels a specific pair of eyes on him. 

Harrington. 

He’s staring right at Billy, a smirk on his pretty face, Bambi eyes hidden behind an expensive pair of Ray-Bans and Billy knows he can’t wait for tomorrow night. He needs to be near him _now_ —feels a little like he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t.

Just as he’s debating whether it would be too obvious to go over after his shifts done, Harrington sits up, effectively getting Billy’s full attention once again. He spreads his legs on either side of the chair and arches his back as he stretches his arms above his head. Billy feels his mouth part, a barely audible, shaky exhale leaving his lips. Harrington goes back to laying down, book in hand, that stupidly perfect, bubblegum pink smirk still ever presently grazing his face, like he _knows_ what he’s doing to Billy. 

He has to figure something out.

Then, it hits him: the storage room. 

Not exactly private, but none of the staff goes in there before closing unless they need an emergency restock in the bathrooms. And he’d just so happened to notice they were getting low on towels in the showers.

Perfect.

Billy takes off his sunglasses, leaning forward, absentmindedly flicking his eyes over the pool. He looks directly at Harrington, making sure he has his attention before angling his eyes towards the door to the storage room. He sees Harrington’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Billy subtly winks. The whole exchange takes less ten seconds.

Billy turns his attention back towards the pool, glancing over everyone once more before putting his sunglasses back on and leaning back again. A picture perfect lifeguard, just fulfilling his duties, checking in.

Though, really, as soon as he has the protection of his sunglasses again, he’s back to staring at his pretty boy, gauging his reaction. He’s not disappointed.

He shifts in the lounge chair and angles his mouth toward Robin, saying something to her. She doesn’t say anything back, only nods, glancing towards Billy and smirking back at him. Harrington grins and lowers his sunglasses a little, making brief eye contact with him before pushing them back up and barely nodding. 

Billy licks his, suddenly dry, lips before looking away and fighting a grin. 

With one minute left, Billy stands, stretching out and getting ready to climb down. Harrington stands from his lounge chair and casually walks towards the vending machine.

Thirty seconds. Before Harrington makes it, he dips into the storage room, unnoticed. 

Fifteen seconds. Heather emerges from behind the service desk, making her way over to take his place. 

Ten seconds. Billy climbs down from the tower. As he passes Heather, he grabs her arm lightly and whispers in her ear, “Blow the whistle three times if you see anyone heading towards the storage room.”

Confusion is written all over her face but she nods in agreement anyway, climbing up to start her own shift. He’s gonna buy her her favorite candy bar later for being such a ride or die.

Billy walks as casually as he can towards the storage room, entering without looking back and letting the door close behind him.

And there he is. Leaning back against some shelves on the other side of the room with a shy smile on his pretty face, Ray-Bans perched on top of his perfectly styled head of hair. Somehow, his eyes shine in the dim lights of the room.

And Billy—

_Billy likes him so fucking much._

He grins and starts walking toward him, tucking his sunglasses through the rope of the whistle resting on his bare chest, “Hey, baby,” he purrs, laying it on thick. 

He finally stands right in front of him, bringing one arm up to rest his hand on the shelf right next to Harrington’s head, and the way he visibly shivers from the close proximity alone makes Billy grin wider, slightly predatory.

Harrington is looking up at him with wide eyes underneath his eyelashes, letting himself be made small, “Hey,” he whispers back.

Billy brings his other hand up to lightly caress Harrington’s pink dusted cheek, “You miss me, pretty boy?” 

Harrington’s eyes slip closed, leaning into his touch and nodding, “Couldn’t wait to see you again.”

It’s amazing, he thinks, that this boy who radiates confidence and indifference toward everyone and everything, turns into putty as soon as Billy is within three feet of him. He’s definitely not complaining, though.

“Me either,” Billy replies, voice gone gentle and low, “was goin’ outta my damn mind wanting to see you, Harrington.”

Harrington frowns and opens his eyes back up, which is not really the reaction Billy wanted.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, hand gone still from where he was caressing his cheek.

Harrington bites the corner of his lip, clearly struggling about how to word it, before rolling his eyes, seemingly at himself, “Can we ditch the last names, Hargrove?”

Billy chuckles, relieved, and lowers his hand to place it on Harrington’s— _Steve’s_ —hip, right on the shorts, thumb grazing the barely visible v-line, which earns him a hitch in breathing, “Sure we can, Stevie.”

The nickname startles a laugh out of Steve. He rolls his eyes again, and it’s clearly _at_ Billy this time, which makes him smile.

“Did you mean it?” Steve asks once he’s done laughing, though there’s still a trace of it dancing in his eyes. He’s so beautiful like this, laughter in his eyes making the corners wrinkle and his nose scrunch up. It makes Billy wanna do something crazy. Like kiss him, maybe.

“Mean what?” he asks, thumb stroking back and forth on Steve’s hipbone.

“When you said you were going out of your mind wanting to see me,” he says after a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Billy just _knows_ he’s got a lovesick smile on his face, his eyes gone soft in admiration as he looks at his pretty boy. He can tell by the ache in his chest and the fluttering in his stomach. He doesn’t feel the need to reign it in, though.

He moves his hand to Steve’s lower back, pulling him closer so their faces are only inches apart. The movement visibly catches Steve off guard and he brings his hands up to Billy’s chest to steady himself as he starts to stumble. His touch makes Billy shiver, his stomach clenching.

“‘Course I did.” He says it in a whisper so as not to pop the bubble they’ve found themselves in yet again.

Steve’s eyes are sparkling like stars again. His cheeks are pink. His strawberry lips are stretched into a big smile. His hands move up and link together behind Billy’s neck, elbows resting on his shoulders. He looks _so happy._ And knowing that he’s the reason for that makes Billy feel the need to do something crazy again.

He moves in closer, head tilting slightly to the right. Steve’s breath hitches and his eyes widen, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he’s moving to meet Billy in the middle. His heart is beating so fast that he’s almost afraid it’ll beat right out of his chest. 

The seconds before their lips touch feel like an eternity and no time at all. And no matter how sappy it sounds, Billy swears something that was missing in him clicks right into place when his lips finally meet Steve’s, his world making a little bit more sense.

And when Steve’s lips open against the gentle prodding of his tongue, he tastes mint and sunscreen, with just a hint of chocolate. 

He feels gentle hands slide into his hair and against his neck. His owns hands make a home on Steve’s lower back, arms holding him tight against him. He can feel Steve’s chest hair against his nipples and is helpless against the moan that escapes his lips. The moan he gets back when one of his hands slip down and rests innocently over the back of Steve’s shorts is the best thing he’s ever heard.

And Billy swears he’s never had a better first kiss in his life—never wants to have another first kiss. 

It’s a scary thought. 

He’s not scared.

He has no idea how long they stay there against the supply shelves, lazily making out. It could be hours for all he knows. When they eventually come up for air, it’s with panting breaths and wide grins. 

Billy rests his forehead against Steve’s as he catches his breath, his hands coming up enough to caress Steve’s sides, “Not bad, pretty boy.”

Steve laughs and shakes his head, hands on Billy’s shoulders, “Not so bad, yourself, _big guy,_ ” he retorts, making Billy laugh as well.

The moment is so achingly sweet that Billy can’t help but go in for another kiss. This one is shorter, more like a peck.

When he tries to pull away again, Steve pulls him back for another. It makes him grin so hard that he can’t even kiss back. Steve doesn’t seem to mind if the matching grin on his face is anything to go by.

Billy sighs happily, nudging Steve’s nose with his own, before he looks down at his watch. They’ve been in here for about fifteen minutes. Any longer and his supervisor will be looking for him.

He sighs again, less happy, and looks back up to see Steve’s sad, though understanding expression. “Gotta get back to work,” he says, regret clear in his voice.

Steve nods, lips pressed together, “I figured,” he says, “but I’ll see you tomorrow night, right?”

Billy nods and leans in for another kiss, to see Steve smile again and because he _really_ wants to, before withdrawing his hands and stepping away. 

He grabs a stack of towels from the shelf on their left and starts walking backwards towards the door, “Stand by the door and wait for my signal before comin’ out, okay?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What signal?”

He smirks, sliding his sunglasses back onto his face, “You won’t miss it.” With that, he walks out of the storage room, silently laughing to himself about the bitchy look on Steve’s face.

-

He feels _a little_ bad about yelling at that kid. 

But, no one noticed Steve walking out of the storage room, so he’s not too hung up on it. Little shit shouldn’t have been running by the pool anyhow.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://anti-social-prettyboy.tumblr.com/post/189281280817/ill-finally-see-part-3-of-the-better-half-of-me)   
> 


End file.
